


Coran

by Braincoins



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alforan - Freeform, Does it count as Major Character Death when he was dead before the series started?, M/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 13:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19906471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Braincoins/pseuds/Braincoins
Summary: No one knows Coran.Not really.And he likes it that way.





	Coran

**Author's Note:**

> Y'know how it is: you can't sleep, so you get up and write Coran angst.  
> Corangst.
> 
> And I'm a sucker for tragic Alforan.  
> ===========

No one knows Coran. Not really.

No one knows why he was the one selected to go into stasis with Allura.

No one knows that he served his king and loved him well – perhaps too well, better than a royal advisor should. No one knows of a drunken night of drunken kisses and drunken fumblings before a sober realization broke through and they bid each other good night. No one remembers the fiery-sweet taste of _grinish_ on the king’s soft lips.

No one knows he loved another. And he did. He never stopped loving his king, his lord, but he cared for his wife deeply, or else he wouldn’t have married her. They wouldn’t have had a son together, all ginger hair and bubbly laughter. No one knows he had his mother’s eyes.

No one knows they died in the Galra bombing raids at the outset of the war. They were spared the horror of the planet’s destruction, at least.

No one knows that when the king asked, it was an easy decision to make. He would have agreed anyway, he always obeyed, but what else was there here for him? No one knew then how long it would be, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t have anyone else to say goodbye to. And Allura was as much his child as the bubbly ginger-haired boy who was already ash in the ruined streets.

No one else knows that he saw the king set the stasis for an indeterminate time, hoping that he’d be back to wake them both as soon as he’d dealt with Zarkon. Coran gently loaded Allura into her pod, watched it shimmer closed and descend. “I used to have to clean these things, y’know,” he’d said weakly, trying to be normal in a situation that was anything but. The king had a risky plan that he wasn’t sharing. He always did that. It had worked out okay before, in a universe before the dead came back to life, their worst instincts magnified voraciously.

No one knows that the king led him gently by the arm to the pod prepared for this. No one knows Alfor looked him in the eye and said, “I wish we’d had more time.” No one knows that he leaned in and kissed him – a goodbye kiss, Coran realized after waking up – and then said, quietly, “Take care of her.”

No one knows that Coran had pulled on his best military bearing, squaring his shoulders and saluting as if he weren’t tearing up. “I will, my lord.” No one knows that Alfor watched him back into the pod of his own accord, knowing the stasis would dry his tears and, hopefully, preserve that determination to protect the princess from any and all enemy combatants.

No one knows that, just like Allura, the last thing Coran saw before he went into that ten-thousand-year sleep was Alfor. No one knows the king said the same thing to him that he had to his daughter: “I love you.”

No one knows that Coran had his own talks with the king’s A.I. before its corruption. No one knows they had their own reminiscences, but that they steered clear of their feelings, of their kisses – some drunk and one sober. There was no point in bringing it up: it was too painful and, anyway, their feelings were clear enough.

No one knows that when the corrupted A.I. said, “You don’t have to live a lifetime of war,” that it was, in fact, corrupting the real king’s wishes for his daughter. He had bemoaned the necessity of it for her, but acknowledged that necessity all the same. Hearing it from the corrupted A.I. had hit Coran hard.

No one knew that Coran had cried himself to sleep that night.

No one knew it wasn’t the first time.

No one knew Coran.

He liked it that way. Let them think of him as a blabbering loud-mouth, too happy to talk about the past. That way they wouldn’t press him. They wouldn’t ask about the past, because they’d assume he had already told them everything.

There were some secrets, some histories, that he kept for himself.

No one could know.


End file.
